That Night
by Kitzophrenic
Summary: Mistakes shouldn't be talked about on a girl's wedding day, and most certainly not mistakes about drunken, naked acts... that didn't involve the groom. Zutara/Kataang.


Just a little something that popped into my head. I don't own _Avatar: The Last Airbender._.. But I wish I did.

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><p><strong>That Night<strong>

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><p><strong>...<br>**

Katara didn't like the look of the wedding dress. Or the half-frozen panda lilies. Or the ornate hand-blow glass centerpieces. She didn't feel comfortable with the golden arches, the twenty long rows of silk-padded seats, or the five crates of turtle doves awaiting an immaculately-timed release into the sunset.

Kuei's gift to the happy couple, a marriage ceremony worthy of a king, had become a nightmare of regal proportions. Her vague imaginings of a quiet, respectful ceremony amongst her immediate friends and family had been totalled when three Earth Nation ships had arrived at the South Pole bearing all the accoutrements of a royal ball on steroids.

So, yeah, she hated the wedding. She did, however, love the groom. That feeling alone was what all this nonsensical madness was all about... Supposedly.

Today she was getting married to the love of her life. Today Aang, the man she'd adored since childhood, was going to finally become her husband. Fortune had smiled on her, this she knew. She told herself over and over again just how fortunate she was.

She was so fortunate, even, that Katara felt the need to repeat the mantra every morning for months in front of the mirror. It was odd, she knew that much, but it couldn't be helped.

She was getting married this evening.

And the very thought froze her straight through to her bones.

"Cold feet?" Toph's voice made her start. The blind teenager was leaning against the carved ice of the bedroom doorway. She stuck out a leg and wiggled her boot. "I'm with you there, sweetness."

Katara managed a smile, eyeing the girl's walking cane. Seeing Toph in footwear of any kind was bizarre, and the cane, while far from permanent, made her a little sad.

"I'm so sorry you have to put up with this."

Toph shrugged, running a hand through her short crop of pitch black hair. Katara had to wonder what her elegant, uptight mother had had to say about _that_ development.

"If you and twinkle-toes want to get married in this frozen wasteland due to some epic tribe tradition, then who am I to complain?" Toph sighed melodramatically, "You're the one who'll have to carry me around like the helpless little blind girl that I am without solid ground."

I smiled slyly. "I fully expect Sokka will help you out with that."

Her head drooped in an attempt to hide the reddening of her face. She'd been like this ever since she'd found out that Suki had married a young lawyer from Kyoshi. Her brother had been bothered by the development; he and Suki had shared an on-again, off-again relationship for years.

Toph, however, had been in a much better mood lately.

"Well, Miss Bride-Britches, should I leave you to it?" She asked, as if in an attempt to escape the pointed silence. Weddings made Toph uncomfortable.

Katara stared back into the mirror at the long, white dress. It was so vast and pale that it seemed to out-white the entirety of the snow-covered South Pole. She tried not to wince.

"S-Sure."

Toph nodded and hobbled out, knocking her knee against the frozen doorjamb.

"Ouch. Friggin' ice desert..." Her epithets echoed back into the hut. Katara knew that while she joked about needing assistance, her young friend was deeply disturbed by this temporary helplessness. Or at least she'd _seemed_ concerned when a certain water tribe man wasn't around to all too kindly assist her.

Katara didn't know how she felt about Sokka and Toph. She wasn't even sure if there _was _a 'Sokka and Toph'. Her brother had been uncharacteristically close-mouthed about the subject. If she were honest with herself, Katara had to admit that not being in on the secret was driving her to distraction.

If she were being even more honest with herself, she would admit that it wasn't just the flowers, or the number of seats, or even the romantic inclinations of her own sibling that were distracting her. It mostly due to the sudden arrival of friends, relatives, and former... mistakes.

Mostly just that last one.

She tried not to let it bother her. Not let _him_ bother her. But the goddamn dress, in all its white, metaphorical ostentation, was so incredibly... _judgmental_.

The whiteness represented purity, virtue, _chastity._

It made her feel a little sick.

Katara put a hand to her head. This was getting ridiculous. She loved Aang, he loved her, and she couldn't let one little mistake ruin that.

If this obnoxiously over-elaborate ceremony wasn't going to stop her from going through with it, she certainly wasn't going to let one late-night error in judgement get in her way.

The memory, almost too hazy to recall properly, washed over her. She tried not to think about the embracing darkness and the feel of the cool wooden floor against her exposed skin; the way the wine had made her head buzz and her skin tingle, the way _he _had...

No. No, that wouldn't do. The guilt slammed down on her like an icy wave.

Mistakes shouldn't be discussed, or even thought about, on a girl's wedding day, and most certainly not mistakes about drunken, naked acts... that didn't involve the groom.

What was wrong with her? She was getting _married_ today, goddamnit!

And no man, not even the great Fire Lord Zuko himself, got a say in the matter.

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><p>Zuko didn't like the look of the wedding dress.<p>

It wasn't that Katara didn't look lovely in it, because he had to admit that she did. There was just something slightly unnerving about the look on her face when she wore it, something that made her seem distant.

He shook his head. How ridiculous. They were miles apart even before she'd put on the dress; he'd made sure of that. But now he was here, a guest, a witness to the bliss of two interconnecting lives. The voyeurism was enough to make him more than a little squeamish.

He'd bought them a toaster as a wedding gift.

Aang stood beside him, grinning like a madman at the soon-to-be bride. At eighteen years old, the Avatar had grown to almost match Zuko's height. He was becoming much more comfortable in his role, that much was clear. As he grew, so did the overt respect and awe he received from the people around him. The lanky boy didn't seem to notice or, if he did, acted like it was all perfectly natural.

It was odd. Zuko was friends with the airbender; they'd even developed a close camaraderie over the years. And yet ever since his ship had docked at the Southern Water Tribe, he'd had the strongest urge to clock the boy wonder in the face.

It was terribly disconcerting.

Luckily, the Fire Lord was disciplined enough to ignore the pang. It more confused than alarmed him, really. The feeling was an inconvenient surprise during what he thought would be a pleasant, happy event.

And what an event it was. There must have been a hundred people here for the ceremony, more than doubling the tribe's entire population. He could tell that the villagers were unused to strangers; they kept to themselves mostly, and avoided Zuko entirely. Five years apparently wasn't enough time to heal the old war wounds, and he couldn't really blame them, having been the one who'd caused the damage in the first place.

Now _that _was what he should be focusing on: Repairing the Fire Nation's reputation with the tribe would be a much better use of his time here.

"Aang!" An angry voice rang across the village, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

With a whoosh of air, the Avatar shoved Zuko's form in front of him.

"Quick, use your lightening blast," he groaned from over the firebender's shoulder, "or at least hide me. I need a buffer in between me and that crazy lady."

But it was too late. Katara's grandmother had seen him. She shook her cane wildly.

"Are you trying to put a curse on your marriage, boy? You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding!" Her face was clouded over with matrimony fever, as was the case for much of Katara's family. Zuko swallowed. Now there was something he didn't envy Aang: the in-laws.

The groom took off before the cane got within reach. Zuko looked up at Katara, who was standing perfectly still in her blinding dress. Her expression held a touch of trepidation and those shocking blue eyes gravitated towards his for a brief moment.

There was only one possible reason for Zuko's violent urges.

His unavoidable unfinished business with the bride... One whole night's worth of it.

Ever since _that night_, things had been so bloody awkward between them. Zuko had always respected, and even felt grateful for, Katara's wish for secrecy. When he'd awoken that morning, only two months ago, he'd been unable to process the circumstances properly. But Katara had neatly wrapped up everything with three little words.

_'This never happened.'_

The idea that you could abolish an event simply by saying it didn't exist was, of course, preposterous, but Zuko had gone along with it for the sake of sheer practicality. He loved Mai; Katara was marrying Aang: Case closed.

Both parties had openly acknowledged that it was all just an unfortunate mistake, encouraged by loneliness, strong drink, and irresponsible curiousity. They didn't need any extra drama in their lives.

... He wondered if she ever thought about it.

He tried not to. It made him feel dishonorable, and that was the last thing the Fire Lord needed associated with his person. He'd always been a little touchy on the subject of his honor. Plus, there was the fact that if Aang ever found out, he'd probably soulbend the life out of the man who'd defiled his soon-to-be wife.

The thought made Zuko wince.

But still, something in the way Katara had looked at him just now... It forced the memories to the surface, not that the entire night was perfectly clear in his mind. Quite the opposite. Zuko remembered the inn, the snowstorm, Katara snapping at him to sit down and stop pacing. Then the word games to pass the time, inevitably followed by the drinking...

Somewhere between _'eye spy_' and _'This never happened'_ had been the sex. The actual act was a little fuzzy. One thing he did recall with astounding clarity were the few minutes after he'd awoken the next morning.

_Her dark lips, held slightly apart. Her breath, slow and heavy with sleep. A nude arm curled over his back. One pert little nipple peaking out from under the blankets. An eyelash on a smooth cheek._

The provocative images were in complete contrast with those stiff, blindingly white robes she was wearing.

A thought dawned on the Fire Lord.

Sure, that night had been a mistake, but he'd never considered it a particularly damaging one. What if Katara felt differently? Is that why she refused to look at him? It bothered Zuko that she might be haunted by it. Those kinds of concerns were the last thing he wanted for her on her wedding day.

... Even if he still wanted to club Aang in the face.

He tried, for a single guilt-ridden second, to picture the soft, supple body under all that ceremonial fuss.

No, Zuko really didn't care for the dress.

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><p><em>AN:_

I don't know if this is going to be more than a one-shot. Let me know if you think I should continue. Thanks for reading and, hopefully, reviewing!

-Kitzophrenic


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